


Heat Of The Moment

by Dexterous_Sinistrous



Series: Tumblr Prompt Requests [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Deputy Derek Hale, Established Relationship, Graduate Student Stiles Stilinski, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mild Language, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:57:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4480016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexterous_Sinistrous/pseuds/Dexterous_Sinistrous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt request: "I said something I shouldn't have said during our fight and now you're gone for 3 hours already and I got a phone call saying you're in an accident. Don't die on me, I still have to apologize and I haven't proposed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat Of The Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr to fill a prompt request ([x](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com/post/125328196462/heat-of-the-moment)). I fixed the series of typos and added a little sentence at the end to fluff it up some more :3
> 
> Enjoy!

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

Derek had everything planned for tonight, but everything started to go wrong since he left the apartment that morning. The Camaro blew a tire on his way to work; Mrs. Jefferson was driving without a license again—and for a ninety-year-old lady, could drive like she was behind the wheel of a getaway car; Greenberg spilt his coffee all over Derek’s lap, making Derek thankful he healed fast. And to top it all off, he had to keep pushing dinner with Stiles back. It got to the point that Stiles started to respond with a curt ‘k’—no winking emoji, no suggestive flirt, nothing to indicate that Stiles was ‘k’ with the whole situation.

Derek was on his way back to the apartment when he realized he forgot the box in his desk. He cursed under his breath, pulling a u-turn and speeding back to the office. He took the steps two at a time, dashing into the office once more as he made a straight line for his desk. He ruffled through his drawers, a small panic rising in his chest when he couldn’t find the velvet box.

“Looking for this, son?” The Sheriff’s voice questioned from the other side of Derek’s desk.

Derek lifted his head to see the box being house in one of the Sheriff’s hands, placed on display for him to see. He tried to fight back the blush of embarrassment, knowing that this wasn’t the greatest way to start his intentions to propose to his boss’s son.

“Yes, sir,” Derek nearly mumbled, taking the box from the Sheriff’s hand. He fiddling with the box, acting like a child that was caught drawing on the wall with permanent marker when they were specifically told not to.

“Take a breath, Derek, and calm down,” the Sheriff stated, a small smile crossing his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Derek release a sigh of relief. “I already gave you permission, I don’t know why you’re still worked up over it.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about, sir,” Derek replied, bashfully rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re worried about Stiles?” The Sheriff questioned, arching his eyebrow as if that was the most absurd statement he every heard. And the man had heard a lot of bizarre things from the criminals he’s locked away—and they lived in Beacon Hills on top of that. “That boy is going to run to the roof top and scream from the top of his lungs that he’s going to marry you, just so he can gloat.”

Derek released a small chuckle, completely capable of picturing Stiles doing that.

“You think I’m joking, but just you wait until you ask him,” the Sheriff replied. “Look, son,” he moved around the desk, placing a reassuring hand on Derek’s shoulder. “I was nervous as hell when I asked Claudia, even though I knew she was going to say yes. Trust me when I say that I _know_ Stiles is going to say yes to you.” He gave Derek’s shoulder a firm, reassuring squeeze. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll come over and knock some sense in him.”

As much as Derek hoped what the Sheriff said was true, he never got the chance to find out. The minute he walked into the apartment, he knew Stiles was pissed. It was three hours later than their originally intended plans, and Stiles planned on letting Derek know that with the way he slammed the fridge door and tossed plates aggressively into the sink.

Derek leaned against the kitchen’s doorframe, watching Stiles angrily scrubbing away at the plates as he grumbled to himself. He wasn’t entirely sure it was safe to enter the same room as his fuming boyfriend, knowing that he was going to get an earful.

“Hey,” Derek finally said, making his presence known.

Stiles shoulders were rigid when he suddenly stopped scrubbing. He perked his head up before going right back to angrily scrubbing the same dish he cleaned about twenty minutes ago.

“Stiles,” Derek sighed his name when he realized he was giving him the silent treatment.

“Don’t,” Stiles snapped, knowing Derek was about to start explaining himself. This wasn’t the first time Derek had spent more time at the office than he had planned to. It wasn’t the first in a long string of nights Stiles wound up eating alone before passing out on the couch to reruns of _Friends_.

“Don’t what? Explain what happened?” Derek questioned, moving into the kitchen.

“What was it this time?” Stiles bitterly asked. “Let me guess, Mrs. Jefferson driving again, even though her license was denied.”

“That happened this morning,” Derek shy admitted. He winced when Stiles pushed the plate into the dishwasher, slamming the door before quickly punching the buttons.

“Of course,” Stiles scoffed. He ripped the dish gloves from his hands before throwing them at the sink, marching through their dining room and into the living room in order to avoid getting close to Derek.

“I’m sorry,” Derek finally stated, certain that was what Stiles wanted to hear.

It wasn’t. Their nonexistent fight suddenly escalated into a screaming match back and forth.

“I’m sorry I have a job!”

“Are you making a jab at the fact that I’m doing grad work?”

“I’m not insulting your precious academia, Stiles.”

“No, you’re just being an ass!”

“I’m sorry I have to stay late when _your father_ asks me to!”

“Don’t you dare bring my father into this!”

“He’s my boss, Stiles. You have a problem with my work schedule, talk to him.”

“I know he didn’t make you stay late today, jackass! So where were you?!”

“I was at the office, Stiles!”

“My father knows it’s our anniversary! He said he wouldn’t keep you!”

“He had to! You can’t predict how a day of policing is going to go! God, I am sick of _this_!”

The room suddenly grew silent, all previous venom in Stiles words was gone as he grew eerily quiet. His shoulders slumped before he finally turned to look at Derek.

“Sick of what Derek?” Stiles softly questioned, hurt and anger mixing across his face.

“Of _this_ ,” Derek motioned between them, tired from the day’s events and even more exhausted from his constant arguments with Stiles over work. All they seemed to do lately is argue.

“Are you … are you breaking up with me?” Stiles’ voice cracked, his cheeks flushing red.

“What?” Derek questioned in shock. “What—no! God, Stiles, we’ve been fighting for the last month on and off constantly,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sick of it.”

Stiles bristled at the last part. “I’m sorry you’re sick of me,” he grumbled stomping towards the coat rack.

“Where are you going?” Derek immediately questioned, following after him.

“Out,” Stiles sternly stated, pulling one of his—Derek’s—hoodies on before snatching his keys from the bowl, stuffing his feet into his shoes.

“Why?” Derek asked.

“Maybe I’m _sick_ of you,” Stiles snapped.

“God, you’re such a child,” Derek snapped back.

“Take that back,” Stiles huffed, furrowing his eyebrows in anger.

“You sound like a child,” Derek added, knowing how much Stiles hated it when he referred to him as a child.

“You’re an arrogant asshole, and I wish—I wish I never agreed to move in with you!” Stiles fumed, his hands tightening into fists.

It stung Derek like a slap in the face.

Stiles knew how critical it was for Derek to ask him to move in together—that just about every other relationship Derek had consisted of terribly abusive exes that ruined Derek’s trust for most people. Derek considered his home to be his private safe house; it was a place where he could hide away from people and protect himself from the world. To give Stiles a key was a big deal—an even bigger deal when Derek asked him to move in.

“Well, I wish I never fucking asked you to,” Derek hit back, hoping it hurt Stiles just as much.

Stiles bit his bottom lip, holding back the way his jaw shivered. “Then I’ll leave,” he finally managed to utter.

“Good,” Derek snapped.

Stiles bit his tongue before he turned and dashed out the door, slamming the door after him.

Derek didn’t hide the way his wolf whimpered, nor did he hide his own anger at himself for not running after Stiles. By the time he was done, there wasn’t a mirror in their apartment that wasn’t smashed.

~*~

Derek’s eyes continued to wander over to the clock by his nightstand, his fingers drifting over his cell phone as he tried to gain the courage to call Stiles—to beg him to come back home. More than three hours had past, enough time for him to lick his wounds and swallow his pride in order to crawl back to Stiles.

The ringtone startled Derek to full awareness, forcing him to sit up as he looked at the screen. He frowned when he noticed it was Scott calling and not Stiles. He sighed, knowing that Scott would come over if he didn’t answer the phone.

“Not now Scott,” Derek answered in a sigh. “I have to—”

“Derek,” Scott’s voice was strained, torn between trying to remain calm and giving into worry.

“What’s wrong?” Derek immediately asked, knowing something was wrong.

“I just got off the phone with the Sheriff … Derek, Stiles was in an accident,” Scott finally explained.

Derek didn’t respond, the phone slipping from his fingertips as he dashed across the apartment. He was already half way out the door when he realized he had neither his keys nor a shirt on. He quickly moved back into the apartment, snatching up his car keys and sweatshirt. Shaking fingers attempted to zipper his sweatshirt around his bare torso to no avail before he finally abandoned it in favor of rushing from the apartment and towards his car.

A mantra of _Stiles_ and _accident_ continued to play in his head as he sped towards the hospital.

~*~

Derek didn’t care how many people were staring at him, his sweatshirt hanging open from his torso as he ran into the hospital. He headed straight for the nurse’s station as he inquired about Stiles.

“Are you family?” The nurse questioned.

“Um,” Derek hesitated, knowing that hospital rules were always strict when it came to visitors. “Not really? I’m his, uh, boy—”

“Fiancé,” Sheriff Stilinski’s voice interrupted him. “I’ll show him to the room,” he offered to the nurse, taking Derek by the bicep as he led him towards the patient rooms. He led Derek as if he was a child, and if Derek was honest, at the moment he felt like a terrified child.

“This is the ICU,” Derek blurted out, his stomach churning and twisting as a thousand different possibilities played through his mind.

“He’s in surgery, but they gave him a room,” the Sheriff explained, voice stern but hopeful. He led Derek to sit outside of an empty patient room.

Derek immediately knew it was Stiles’. He pressed his head into his hands, unable to focus on anything but the overpowering sounds and smells of the hospital.

“Son, I need you to stay with me,” the Sheriff’s voice started. “I need you to tell me what happened.”

“I … I don’t know,” Derek replied. He suddenly told the Sheriff the entire story—how they argued, everything going the exact opposite of how he planned.

“I told him I would try to get you out early, not that you wouldn’t be working late,” the Sheriff sighed in aggravation. Derek had a feeling he would have yelled at Stiles if he had the chance, but now he just looked lost in thought as a pensive look crossed his features.

“I shouldn’t have let him leave,” Derek admitted. “This is my fault.”

“Hey, stop that,” the Sheriff almost snapped. “We both know that if you went after him, it would have made him more determined to leave.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I said, then,” Derek countered.

“True,” the Sheriff admitted. “But Stiles was also in the wrong,” he sighed as he took the seat next to Derek.

“What happened?” Derek finally asked, unable to take the growing silence.

“Driver fell asleep at the wheel,” the Sheriff replied. “Had a heavy foot and was going too fast. They slammed into Stiles’ side and caused him to run off the road. He hit a tree.”

Derek nodded, unable to speak, his throat constricting as he thought of Stiles being hurt and unconscious. He thought of Stiles being alone on that road at night when he shouldn’t have been. He should have been home in bed. He should have—

Derek’s eyes widened. “Oh God,” his voice croaked as realization hit him. “He was coming back home,” he barely admitted before he pressed his face into his hands. He wasn’t sure if he was grateful for Sheriff’s hand rubbing his back, but it made the small shaking from his silent sobs more bearable.

~*~

It had been a little more than a week and Stiles still hadn’t woken up.

Derek often fell asleep in the hospital room, his fingers thread together with Stiles’ as he drew his pain from him. He knew it was silly, but he honestly thought that if he drained enough pain from him, Stiles would wake up.

Everyone took their turn visiting Stiles, the Sheriff coming to relieve Derek long enough in the afternoon to force him to go home and rejuvenate himself. It became a rinse and repeat cycle that everyone settled into. Derek, however, was on autopilot the entire time, worrying his lip bad enough to make it bleed before he would allow it to heal, only to do it all over again.

The longer Stiles was confined to the hospital bed, the more Derek panicked about the outcome. He started to crawl into the bed alongside Stiles, curling up around him as he tried to protect him from his injuries. After doing this small action the first few times, Derek suddenly broke down one day. He moved to rest his head against Stiles’ chest, his hands rested against Stiles’ sides. He gently nuzzled against Stiles’ chest, the way he often did after an intense round of marathon sex they normally had during the full moon. He pretended he could feel Stiles’ fingers brushing through his hair as they normally would.

“Please,” Derek silently whispered. “Please, Stiles, wake up. Please don’t leave me alone here.” He quickly wiped the tears from his eyes as he thought of a life without Stiles. Even before he met him, his life was a void, nothing ever making him feel alive as Stiles did. “I miss you so much—your laugh, the feeling of you tucked in my arms as I fall asleep, your obnoxious singing in the shower; I even miss fighting with you. I should have never said what I did. I said it because I was hurt that you said you wished you never lived with me. I just … It doesn’t excuse what I said. But I want you to know, I didn’t mean it—not even a little bit.

“All this … this wasn’t supposed to happen. That night was supposed to be one of the happiest nights I’ve ever had. I was supposed to … I was going to—” His voice broke off as he thought of never being able to ask Stiles to marry him now. He forced his eyes shut as he continued, “I was going to ask you to marry me.”

“Of course I’ll marry you, you asshole,” Stiles’ voice suddenly broke the silence, forcing Derek to jerk back from his comfortable spot against Stiles, forcing Stiles’ fingers from his hair.

Derek blinked several times, shocked to see Stiles smiling, his eyes half open as he took in Derek’s appearance.

“Although, I have to say, Der, proposing in the hospital is the most cliché thing you could do,” Stiles joked, hoping to snap Derek out of whatever had him frozen.

Derek didn’t say anything, instead he pushed forward, pressing his lips against Stiles as he scooped him up in his arms. He didn’t pull back from Stiles, even when the heart monitor started to obnoxious beep next to his ear. They both startled when the door opened and a few nurses and the on-call doctor rushed in.

They all paused as they stared at Stiles and Derek and then looked to the heart monitor. The doctor muttered about it being a false alarm as the nurses chuckled behind their hands.

“You boys have fun,” the older nurse said as she followed the younger one out. “Just try not to do too much, it’s terrifying as hell to see a heart monitor react to a heartbeat when its owner is orgasming.”

Derek ducked his head, his blush running straight for the tips of his ears.

Stiles smirked as he moved to place his hands behind his head, a smug look of pride covering his features.

“We’re not having sex while you’re hooked up to a heart monitor,” Derek stated, knowing exactly what was crossing Stiles’ mind.

“What? Aw, come on, Derek,” Stiles whined, moving his hands to grab Derek’s hips in order to prevent him from leaving the bed.

“I’m not having a crash team rush in while I’m balls deep in you,” Derek quipped.

“You could just have your head in my lap,” Stiles playfully wiggled his eyebrows.

Derek couldn’t help but laugh at that. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Stiles smiled into their kiss.

The older nurse actually high fived Stiles after the crash team grouchily exited the room, an embarrassed and blushing Derek sitting off to the side muttering something about how he couldn’t believe he was going to marry Stiles.

“You love me,” Stiles grinned from ear to ear as the nurse left them.

Derek shook his head as he let a smile fall over him. “Yeah … yeah I do.”

And proving the Sheriff right, that night Stiles yelled from the hospital’s rooftop that he was marrying Derek Hale, sounding like a town crier until Derek was forced to carry him back inside for disturbing the peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to join me on tumblr:
> 
> [drunklightning](http://drunklightning.tumblr.com) is my blog where I reblog anything I find of interest.
> 
> [dexterous-sinistrous](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com) is suited towards my ramblings about my writing, and NSFW. (It's where I serenade myself about Sterek). It's my trashcan of emotions. Feel free to stop by and say hi, criticize me, make incoherent noises with me, whatevs.
> 
> [Send](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com/ask) me any prompts you think you'd like to have me write!


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